


How to Lose IT for Dummies

by Tav



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Annoying Shop Clerk, Attempted first time, M/M, Mentions of the other Avengers - Freeform, Phone Sex, Really annoying Shop Clerk, Sex Education, Steve is the really cute tiny Steve for this one...., This is just for laughs, Thor is in his late twenties, clueless teenagers, everyone else is in the twelfth grade, so I guess its a size kink fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9910736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tav/pseuds/Tav
Summary: Steve and Bucky agree to lose their virginity to each other before going off to college. Who better to lose it to than your best friend right? No strings attached and no complications, just a simple covenant.It should be so easy.Only it isn't.One man makes it oh so complicated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted this story in a completely different fandom a while ago, but last night I got to thinking, it would so work with my new love just as well. So I'm trying it out here. 
> 
> Had loads of laughs writing it, hope you laugh reading it. It's the purpose of it :-)
> 
> Unedited so mistakes are my own. Try enjoy.

They’ve been next door neighbors for thirteen years, best friends for twelve.  

 

When they were eleven they figured out that they both liked boys and were the only boys in their class who detested Ben 10.

 

They’ve had joint birthday parties nine times, because they are both born in the eighth month of the year.  

 

In seventh grade they went to their first school dance and between the two of them, they danced with six girls.

 

They’ve won five talent shows impersonating Hall and Oates, but have only been beaten up by bullies for it four times.

 

They’ve only seen each other butt naked three times and have caught the other staring twice.

 

But there has never once been an instant between them as awkward as this single moment right now.

 

“So are we gonna do this?” Steve asks.

 

“You go first,” Bucky insists.

 

Even as Steve takes a tentative step forward, he still has absolutely no idea exactly what his best friend means by _go first_.

 

Steve puts his right sweaty hand on Bucky’s bare left shoulder and then the left lands awkwardly on Bucky’s right. He shifts from foot to foot when he feels Bucky’s hands land on the awkward part of his sides, high on his ribs and far too close to his armpits. But his usually ticklish self finds nothing funny at all. The moment isn’t supposed to be funny. It isn’t supposed to be romantic either, both because Bucky is like a brother and this is merely a covenant.  It can’t possibly be sexy, because despite the fact that they are both entirely naked, they are standing at arm’s length like two children enduring their first boy/girl dance. 

 

“Does this feel like an awkward first dance to you?” Bucky asks, reminding Steve of how much they really are like brothers. Making the moment even more uncomfortable.

 

“Maybe if we-” Steve can’t say the words so he steps closer instead, forcing their arms to wrap around each other. And it has progressively become an awkward brotherly hug, chests touching but groins not.

 

“Maybe we should put on some music,” Bucky suggests, “like Marvin Gaye.”

 

“Are you kidding me,” Steve scrunches his face, “Marvin Gaye is terrible.”

 

“And I suppose your Michael Bolton _love_ collection is better.”

 

“Yes, it is. It’s ten times better.”

 

“Oh, is that so.”

 

“His voice is a natural aphrodisiac. I mean, have you ever made out to _Sexual Healing_?”

 

“Have you?”

 

“No, but-“

 

“No, you haven’t.”

 

“I said no,” Steve frowns. “But it’s a lot less gay than Marvin. Even his name is gay.”

 

“Steve, look at us,” Bucky nods down between the two of them, “we’re gay.”

 

“But we’re not narcissistic about it.”

 

“Shut up, Steve,” Bucky sighs. “Let’s just…kiss okay?”

 

“Okay,” Steve nods and takes a deep breath. And then immediately backs away. “Wait, hang on. Don’t just come at me like you’re about to eat a falafel.” 

 

“A falafel?” Bucky frowns. Thinks for a moment. “Are you really thinking about Middle eastern food while we’re about to do this?”

 

“Have you seen yourself eat a falafel?”

 

“Of all the comparisons in the entire world you could have used-”

 

“I’m just saying,” Steve sighs, “you gotta ease into it.”

 

“Suddenly you’re the expert at kissing.”

 

“I’d like to think I know a thing or two about it.”

 

“And just how many times have you been kissed?”

 

“Certainly more than you.”

 

“Aunts don’t count.”

 

Steve thinks. “One more than you. You know what; let’s just forget the kissing and get right to…”

 

“Agreed.”

 

A new wave of nervous heat piles at the bottom of Steve’s gut when he’s reminded that this isn’t just one of Bucky’s and his casual arguments over video games.  This is it. The legendary shift between being a boy and becoming a man all summed up into one act of bodily fluids being exchanged in irregular places. Steve actually feels queasy. Even more so when he looks down at Bucky’s cock and his friend is not even….

 

“You’re not even…”

 

“Well neither are you,” Bucky retorts defensively.

 

“Maybe if we….”

 

“Good idea.”

 

Even though the position is odd and their wrists keep knocking, Steve can’t deny the familiar sensation of being turned on, only it’s not his own penis growing hard in his palm, it’s Bucky’s. And that alone makes his own dick stiffen, and bob and come to life in an embarrassingly wet way. Steve’s hand tightens on Bucky’s shoulder and his forehead drops onto his knuckles. Eyes fluttering shut as they wordlessly pick up the pace. And as their breathing becomes more aggressive, Steve feels Bucky begin to thrust into his palm, encouragement enough for him to do the same. But it causes their cocks to touch and Steve feels a bolt of heat strike from his cock to his feet only to fly back up to his knees, weakening them with dull warning. Warning that if they keep at this, Steve will be ending it painfully quickly. 

 

“You should probably put on your condom now.”  Bucky breathes out, as if in Steve’s mind. Brothers. 

 

But then Steve’s brows furrow.

 

“I thought you were wearing the condom.”

 

“This was your idea.”

 

“Yeah but you’re….you know. You’re the-”

 

“The guy?” Bucky actually scoffs. “Please don’t tell me you were just about to say _the guy_.”

 

“Fuck it, Bucky,” Steve stops stroking because he never imagined he’d be having an argument with his best friend, dick in hand. “We’re in your room. Just get a condom.”

 

“I don’t own any.”

 

“How can you not?”

 

“Do you?”

 

“No, but I probably would’ve made sure we had some if we planned on having sex in _my_ room.”

 

“We only talked about this last night. Forgive me for not running out to an all-night condom express store.”

 

“Just forget it,” Steve pulls away entirely, puts space between them, his back to Bucky.  The space allows cool air to shower over him, the indignity dampens the mood and Steve is not even slightly shocked to feel himself losing wood.  Steve sighs and starts to get dressed, “One of us has to go get some.”  .

 

“This was all your idea so…”

 

“We’re not in kindergarten anymore, Bucky.” Steve turns back to his friend who is now sporting jeans, perched at the edge of the bed, seemingly just as embarrassed by their fumble as Steve is. “We’re both in this together, we do things fairly. And how have we always done things fairly?”

 

“We draw straws,” Bucky concludes and wastes no time going straight for his drawer.

 

Steve eyes him incredulously. “How is it that you always have straws in your nightstand, but no condoms?” 

 

Bucky ignores Steve entirely, shuffling through his pinks, greens and yellows before settling on a lone blue straw. He finds a pair of scissors easily, cuts the straw into three pieces before tossing the extra piece aside. The two that remain in his hands are uneven.

 

“Right, whose turn is it to draw?” Steve sits beside Bucky.

 

“Can’t remember,” Bucky grins, “Let’s draw straws to see whose turn it is to draw-”

 

“I’ll draw,” Steve cuts him off with an exaggerated eye roll.

 

Bucky shuffles the straws and holds them up in a loose fist leaving both of them looking of equal height.

 

Steve draws a straw.

 

Bucky grins.

 

*****

 

For Steve, the perks of living in such a small town are as followed:

 

They never run out of milk or sugar and usually end up returning home with fresh cookies as well. Because even though Mrs. Brittle from next door calls her cats her children, felines don’t tend to favor baked goods and she always ends up with more treats than she knows what to do with them.

 

They can go to bed with the front door unlocked, because the neighborhood is its own watch. A comforting sense of security, even before the Chief of Police decided to move into the house two doors down. Even before his mother started dating the Chief’s deputy.  

 

The mailman knows him by name and doesn’t ask questions about the many ‘Men’s Fitness’ magazines he’s subscribed to. In fact, Ralph always makes sure that if the man on the cover is wearing any less than a three piece suit, the magazine is delivered directly in Steve’s hands and nobody else’s. The delivery even comes with a smile.

 

The shop clerks let him off easy when he’s a few coins short and he gets extra Oreos in his smoothies at the only diner in town. Even the nurses at the clinic treat Steve like their favorite nephew because Steve’s mother has been a loyal part of their staff for nearly a decade.

 

For Steve, the disadvantage of living in such a small town is all of the above.

 

Everyone in the neighborhood is always watching. His mother is dating the deputy sheriff. The mailman and shop clerks and attendants know him by name. And every fucking nurse at the clinic treats him like a fucking nephew because his mother has been a loyal part of their staff for nearly a decade.

 

So Steve finally gives up on the drugstore, the mini mall and clinic, never really having any hope in the dispensary by the guidance counselor’s office at school. Judging by the amount of students reporting _attack by water-filled condoms_ , it’s pretty clear that the contraceptives are not used for their intended purpose, thus resulting in the school’s reluctance to maintain it.

 

That is the only reason why Steve is here.

 

 _‘LAST MINUTE THINGS’,_ Steve reads the sign above.

 

He purposely walks past the front door three times after taking two busses to the one shop he knows he has zero chance of being recognized in.

 

When Steve finally enters, the jingle that introduces the shop’s new patron sounds loud enough to announce that the Pope is dead. Although the store is empty and filled only with the sound of a football game in full swing on the tiny outdated television above the clerk’s head, Steve feels as though he’s on full exhibition. But the clerk remains buried in his magazine. And Steve expects the lingering look over the brim of said magazine is only unwavering because Steve is dressed in a black hoodie and large black sunglasses, one bandana around his mouth away from being completely covered.

 

Even though he wants to get out of there as quickly as possible, Steve finds himself lifting a chocolate bar and then putting it back. Reading the dietary contents on the back of a bag of potato chips. Anything to buy himself time enough to stop his hands from shaking.

 

After a full five minutes of staring at sodas he has no intention of buying, Steve finally finds himself standing in front of the counter. He clears his dry throat, eyes dropping just as the clerk lowers his magazine from his face and his boots from the counter.

 

“Um,” Steve clears his throat again and it’s a horrible sound. “May I please have-”

 

The jingle sounds again, no less annoying to Steve’s suddenly sensitive ears and Steve curses Murphy’s Law as a large, tattooed man carrying a helmet takes the spot right behind him. Close enough for Steve to smell the sweat and nicotine. And all Steve can do is mumble how the big guy can go ahead of him, earning him a hard, suspicious look from the new patron.

 

“The usual, Max?” the clerk asks with an accent that Steve is too nervous to decipher and the conversation that follows between the other two men as they exchange cigarettes and money is terribly guarded yet familiar. Steve is just about to take his previous place in front of the counter when the bell sounds again, this time bringing with it the tiniest old lady Steve has ever seen.

 

“I insist, ma’am,” Steve offers her his place.

 

“Aren’t you a sweet one,” she touches his arm, smiling brilliantly as she searches through her purse, as small and worn as she is. “You know, it’s very rare to find that sort of manner from young people nowadays. Not at all like back in my day. I remember a time when-”

 

Steve’s smile shakes as he pretends to listen to her elaborate description of how her first boyfriend laid down his jacket in a puddle of water so that her shoes would remain dry during their Sunday stroll back in God knows when. Steve can’t give her his full attention because the clerk’s eyes are on him, he can feel it even though he refuses to look up at the other man. And the little lady doesn’t stop speaking, even after she’s made her unnecessarily dragged out purchase of dental floss and a scratch card. Her chatter only disappears with her once the door jingles shut.

 

Steve waits a beat, staring at the door for a moment longer before trying one last time.

 

“A box of condoms please,” Steve mumbles.

 

“I beg your pardon?” the British accent becomes clear.

 

Steve has to take a deep breath before repeating himself.

 

“Condoms,” he tries louder, reaching for his wallet. “Can I get a box of condoms, please?”

 

Then nothing happens, Steve standing there with an open wallet that shakes more as the silent seconds drag on. And when he finally looks up, it’s just in time to see red lips curve into a full smile, framed by a scruffy looking dirty blond beard. A smile that reaches remarkable eyes with a sinister shade to them. And Steve visibly notices tension release from broad shoulders, muscle relax under thin black material and a strong chest deflate as if far too much air had been stuck in there somewhere.     

  

“Condoms?” the clerk smirks, brow shooting high.

 

“Yes….please,” Steve adds the last part softly to soften the harshness of his affirmation.

 

“Are you not a little too young to be purchasing-”

 

“Look,” Steve snaps a bit too quickly. Because of all the things that have happened thus far, this is certainly one he had been expecting. “I’m eighteen, alright. And I have money to pay for it. So may I please just get a box of f damn condoms? “

 

“Very well,” is all that’s said after another short silence. No less amused.  And Steve feels as though he’s so close and it’s almost over and he can run away and never return, but then the British clerk adds, “What type would you like, sir?”

 

“Type?” Steve freezes.

 

“Yes, type.” The clerk turns to the display behind him, hand skimming over the different types of boxes. The different colors. The different brand names. To Steve, condoms have always been just that. Condoms. And now Steve is sure he has no idea what they ever really were in the first place. “Let’s see, we have latex, non-latex, glow in the dark, textured, flavored,” he looks over his shoulder and smiles at Steve before adding, “insertable.”

 

“I – uh….”

 

“Then they’re the sizes as well,” the clerk goes on, “what might you be looking for?”

 

“Normal.”

 

“Normal?”

 

“Look,” Steve shouts unknowingly, “I just need normal condoms for normal _sex_ , okay.”

 

“Relax,” the clerk turns back fully, crossing his arms over his chest and having the audacity to appear as though Steve is the one being unreasonable for his outburst. “I’m merely attempting to make sure you have the best experience for your first time.” 

 

“It isn’t my first ti-”

 

The bell rings announcing the return of the little old lady.

 

“-cant seem to find my glasses,” she says as if she started the conversation alone outside and they were supposed to have been following all along. Steve doesn’t bother telling her that they’re on her head before he’s pocketing his wallet and heading for the door.

 

“What about your condoms?” the clerk shouts after him and Steve’s blood boils at the amusement lacing that stupid sexy voice.

 

“Oh dear, you can never forget your condoms,” the old lady begins, “My little sister has five boys and seven-”

 

Steve escapes before he can hear anymore of her lecture. Any more of his laughter.

 

At this point, Steve is convinced he’s prepared to happily die a virgin.

 

*****

 

“He was such a jackass!”

 

“You’re such a prude, Steve.”

 

“Fuck you,” Steve grunts into the phone, “you have no idea how brutal that was. You wouldn’t have managed either.”

 

“Fine, then, baby,” Bucky taunts, “ _I’ll_ go and show you how easy it is.”

 

“But you have to go to the same place,” Steve challenges.

 

“Done,” the cockiness is obvious in his best friend’s tone. “And when I return with them, I get your I Pad.”

 

“And we’ll even listen to Marvin Gaye while we’re using them.”

 

“Deal,” Bucky says before hanging up. Because they haven’t said ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ to each other in years.

 

As Steve turns the light off on his nightstand and curls up under his heavy duvet, Steve realizes this is the first time he’s ever found himself routing against his best friend.

 

*****

 

“He’s such a jackass,” Bucky growls by way of greeting, throwing himself onto Steve’s bed.

 

Steve bursts out laughing as he bounces on the upset mattress. “I take it you were unsuccessful.”

 

“Are you kidding me,” Bucky glares at his friend, pink tinting high on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “I ran out of there as soon as he whipped out the measuring tape.”

 

Steve clutches his sides, rolling once to lay his head on Bucky’s stomach. Legs thrashing off the edge of the bed as if that will help regulate his laughter. He feels tears prickle the sides of his eyes even as Bucky pokes his head away painfully with two firm fingers. 

 

“What exactly was he going to measure?”

 

Bucky pulls the pillow out from under his own head and places it over Steve’s face. He gives up altogether when it fails to fully muffle the merriment. “Let’s just go somewhere else. Order online even. People do that all the time right?”

 

“No,” Steve sobers, sitting up. “No, it’s my turn again.  I’m not letting him win.”

 

“Not letting him win?” Bucky frowns harder, sitting up as well. “Steve, is this even about you and me anymore.”

 

“Of course it is,” Steve assures, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “ Listen, lemme just try one more time. Just for personal-victory’s sake…. and also because if I get them, I want your PSP.

 

“And we’ll even listen to Michael Bolton,” Bucky finally smiles after a few too many seconds of deep, silent thought.

 

“Well, be prepared to lose it to _Sexual Healing_ ,” Steve puts his brightest smile on display as he flicks his head towards the laptop on his study table, “because I’ve done my research.”

 

“That’s not fair,” Bucky whines.

 

“All is fair in sex and virginity loss….and…condoms-”

 

“You’re such a jackass.”

 

Steve and Bucky both burst out laughing.

 

*****

 

“Durex Sensi-Crème,” Steve places his money down on the counter with a self-satisfied smirk, “classic.”

 

“Someone’s done their research,” the clerk raises a brow, looking every bit as if he’s about to applaud.

 

“I didn’t do any research,” Steve shrugs, running a hand through his hair coolly and looking around the empty store noncommittally.  “It’s just my usual.”

 

“For your _normal_ sex?”

 

“Yes, “Steve refuses to lose his cool, regardless of how the clerk’s acclamation is starting to sound more like mockery. “My… normal sex.”

 

“Because, I’d feel very irresponsible if I didn’t inform you that if you’re going to be having any sort of ‘abnormal’ sex,” the clerk does air quotes after finding Steve’s purchase far too easily, “you might want to invest in getting a good water-based lubricant with this.”

 

“Lube?”

 

“What kind of sex are you going to be having?”

 

“Normal,” Steve snaps defensively. Hating how quickly the tables have turned. How his throat is dry again and the clerk’s smile is broad.

 

“Well to be honest with you that doesn’t really tell me a lot,” he crosses one arm over his chest, his other hand going to his chin like a professor about to wing a crucial lecture. “All sex is ‘normal’ depending on the couples’ partialities, be it oral or vaginal or anal. But it’s the intended positions that really determine what the two of you require to …enhance the experience. So what is it then? Do you keep it simple, good old missionary and doggy? Or are you as saucy as I think you are, hmm? A little V for Vixen? Backstairs Boogaloo? You strike me more of an Arc de Triomph sort of boy, perhaps some Pinwheel action before settling for Head over –”

 

“Anal,” Steve blurts out. It isn’t so much the images that the alien terms conjure up in his messed up mind that annoys Steve, it’s the way each syllable tumbles out of the clerk’s pornographic mouth.

 

“Look,” he sighs, “I know I’ve been accused of being particular from time to time, but there’s no need to call me anal.”

 

“Anal sex, okay,” Steve tries to hide his blush by ducking his head and he is certainly back to square one. He wishes he hadn’t abandoned his hoodie during his earlier rush of false bravado. “Just normal front to back, anal…bed…on all fours sex.”

 

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

 

“Listen, can I just get lube as well and be on my way?”

 

“Relax,” the clerk offers a reassuring nod before looking over Steve’s shoulder. When he speaks again, his voice booms loudly enough to echo in the store. “Loki, could you please get me a 500ml bottle of Swiss Navy Silicone Lubricant from the back. Loki?”

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Steve ducks his head as if that will hide his shame one ounce.

 

“Relax,” the clerk is laughing, “there is no one else here. I’m merely teasing you.”

 

“Can I speak to your manager?” Steve finally demands when his ears stop ringing and his heart slows down to something he feels normal for how enraged he still is.

 

 “Speaking,” the clerk sneers with not a smidgen of remorse for how he’s just nearly given Steve a mild panic attack.

 

“No,” Steve shakes his head, “The owner.”

 

“Well you can speak to him if you like but I’d be rather concerned if I was you and he spoke back,” the clerk lifts a section of the counter near the wall and slips out from behind it. “My father’s been buried for two years now.”

 

“Im sorry…I just…” Steve manages to stutter when the clerk returns behind the counter, wagging a transparent bottle in his hand, long fingers curled distractingly around the plastic tube. “I’m sorry. I just want to-”

 

“It’s alright,” the clerk shrugs large shoulders with his back to Steve, fussing with his purchase. “I’ve been giving you a rather hard time. You _and_ your partner really. And for that I do apologize.”

 

“My partner?” Steve inquires.  

 

“The handsome, Luke Skywalker young man,” the clerk smiles back easily.

 

“Wait,” Steve shakes his head as if to clear it. “You knew that him and I were…”

 

“It was rather easy to tell,” the long haired man finally packs Steve’s items in a brown paper bag.  “Besides, I only have a handful of regulars. The only thing keeping this place running is a few nicotine addicts and lottery chancers…and prayer.”

 

“Well maybe if you’d stop being such a massive prick you’d have more customers,” Steve states unforgivingly, taking his parcel and waiting a few seconds longer only for his change.

 

“Perhaps,” the clerk tilts his head with equally unforgiving thought to the advice. “You take care, Steven.”

 

Steve is making his exit with immense relief that the moment is over and no intentions of thanking the man for his assistance. But something makes him freeze.

 

“How’d you know my-”

 

A group of high school girls enter the store with the now familiar loud jingle and even louder banter laced in giggles.

 

“I’ll talk to you soon,” is the last thing Steve hears the clerk say before he makes his escape.

 

*****

 

Steve checks the contents of the brown paper bag for the fifth time since hiding it under his bed.

 

He opens the box at the bottom this time just to be sure before shaking out its contents.

 

After another five minutes of staring at the chicken scratch scribbled on the back of his cash slip, Steve relents with a groan and picks up the phone, dialing the number with false determination.

 

“Last Minute Stuff, how can I help you?”

 

“How did you know my name is Steven?”

 

“Oh hello Stevie,” the world’s worst clerk hums fondly, “what a pleasant surprise.”

 

“How did you know?” Steve chooses to ignore him.

 

“Well its written rather juvenilely in sharpie on your equally infantile Spiderman wallet,” the smile is present in his tone. “In fact, apart from your unfortunate size, that’s the only thing that made me certain you were twelve years old.”

 

“Well, I’m not,” Steve rolls his eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand anything about sentimental gifts, but that was actually given to me when I was a kid by my bes-boyfriend. He spent all year saving up for it and I’ve kept it ever since.”

 

“You and Skywalker must really love each other, how sweet,” Thor’ voice is dripping with false adoration. “In fact, I think I may have just developed a telephonically induced cavity.”

 

“Go to hell.” Steve says, hating this man more and more by the second. “That’s not why I called. The box _says See inside for Instructions_ and all I got is your phone number. Where the hell are my instructions?”

 

“I’m right here.”

 

“I can’t believe you-,” Steve sighs, exasperated but not completely unbelieving. Not entirely surprised that this crazy man could do something as vindictive as commandeering something so vital for his own personal amusement.  “Know what, it doesn’t even matter. There’s this thing called the interne-”.

 

“The internet is a lot less helpful than I will be if you just let me,” the clerk purrs. “Also I can assure you, I’m a lot more fun.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Steve’s thumb is already on the button that will put an early end to the clerk’s preposterous idea.

 

“Trust me on this one,” he says quickly before Steve can do what he knows he should, “I’ll walk you through it, step by step. Zero judgment. With a few tips. And amusing witticisms to calm you down in case you get nervous.”  

 

And Steve is suddenly plagued with a million possibilities that allowing this to happen will bring with it. He’s confused by how easy it all suddenly seems, how simple it is to talk to a man who usually sets his heart racing. It’s easy simply because he’s two busses away. And they can’t meet each other’s eyes. And Steve can simply hang up whenever he wants to. Not to mention, this man’s voice is so enjoyable that Steve finds himself not wanting to end their conversation. 

 

“Not a single joke,” Steve surrenders against his better judgment.

 

“Not a single joke, then.” Thor concurs with bottled enjoyment in his tone.

 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Steve groans squinting up at the ceiling, “What _am_ I doing?”

 

“Well you tell me,” Steve hears the unmistakable sound of a chair squeak back and can picture the other man getting comfortable, “What _are_ you doing right now? Where are you?”

 

“I’m um….in my room,” Steve looks around before adding, “…on my bed.”

 

“Are you lying down?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And what are we wearing?”

 

Steve stares down at himself as if to make sure nothing has miraculously changed since the last time he checked. “Boxer briefs.”

 

“What color?”

 

“Is that really necessary?”

 

“It’s helpful Steven,” there’s definitely a smile present, “please do cooperate.”

 

“Fine,” Steve sighs again. “Black.”

 

“Mmmm,” it’s a ridiculously dirty sound of appreciation at the back of his throat that has Steve’s skin prickling.

 

“I will hang u-”

 

“Remove them,” his voice is lower. Accent thicker.

 

“Really?” Steve hates the way his own voice sounds almost girly.

 

“Well you can’t exactly shag anything with them on.”

 

“I know, it’s just th-”

 

“Steven,” it’s nearly growled and Steve’s ear is left feeling even hotter than before.  

 

Steve places his phone aside, hands trembling as he raises his hips off the bed and yanks his briefs down his painfully thin legs. “They’re off.”

 

“Right, get a condom out and tear it open,” a smile returns to his voice, “Not with your teeth, this isn’t a porno.”

 

“Am I supposed to be…. um….” Steve hates how he still can’t find the nerve to word everything on his mind. No doubt on both of their minds.

 

“You wound me, Steve, you’re not erect? I’m as hard as a hammer.”

 

“I’m just –” Steve refrains from telling a perfect stranger who already thinks him a child that he is a little scared. Anxious. Tense. “I’m halfway there. Lemme just –”

 

“Don’t touch it,” it’s another abrupt command that has Steve snapping his hand away from his cock as if it isn’t his own and he has no rights where it is concerned. “No need to touch it when I’m crawling between your legs, parting them, kissing your inner thighs. Slowly, thoroughly. Burring my face in your crotch, letting my tongue dart out to trace the delicate line between your balls before sucking them into my wet, warm –”

 

“Okay,” Steve snaps a little too loudly and far too panicky, “okay I’m there.”

 

“Pity,” the older man chuckles, “Would’ve rather enjoyed that. _Now_ , open the packet and pull it out. See the little bulb bit of the condom? That should be breathing between your fingertips.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, voice small. Nostrils filling with a medicinal sort of smell as he lets his fingertips get damp against the rubber.   

 

“Place that on the tip of your cock and gently, slowly roll it down,” the man instructs, indulgently as if he’s picturing the entire thing. “All the way down to the base. Smooth it properly, alright?”

 

Steve follows every direction carefully as if rushing his actions will wreck it. Will cause him to fumble. Will disappoint this stranger who, at this moment, he is willing to do just about anything to impress.  “Its done.”

 

“Brilliant,” Steve holds his breath because he isn’t quite sure he heard what he thinks he just heard correctly. It’s just passed 11pm and the house is silent. It’s just passed 11pm and Steve suspects the clerk isn’t expecting too many customers, even ones looking for ‘last minute things’. But Steve still thinks his sexual imagination is running away with himself if he really heard the sound of the other man’s zipper opening. “Got your lube with you?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve is suddenly unsure of what they’re doing, of what he’s suggesting they should keep doing. “But I just needed help with the-”

 

“Now, Steven,” he interrupts, “I promised to show you how it’s done. So I am going to show you exactly how it’s done. Beginning to end. I am rather…anal, remember?”

 

Steve has always been one to evaluate every situation. Come at them from all angles to make sure all his tactics and decisions land him on top. For the life of him, this aroused and wanting, Steve can’t find it in himself to think straight. So instead he hears himself say, “Okay.”

 

“Dribble some lube onto your cock,” the voice in his ears continues as if he knew Steve was too lost in it anyway. “Smear it all over your erection with one hand only.”

 

Steve breathes heavily as he complies, squeezing his eyes shut to picture himself anywhere but there. Anywhere but pathetically in his room speaking to the sexiest man he’s ever laid his eyes on.  And he starts picturing that he’s right in that tiny shop with that man’s eyes directly on him.

 

“I want you to make a tight fist with your hand that’s already lubed up. Not too tight now. But the catch is you know the way you usually pleasure yourself?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve stops shakily, three strokes into it.

 

“Forget that,” he says smoothly, “turn your fist around. I want the head of your cock pushing against your thumb. Pushing into the hole your fingers have created. Pushing against that resistance.”

 

“Fuck,” Steve whimpers, complying with every word. Hanging onto every breath.

 

“In a moment” he teases and Steve is too far gone to feel teased, “he must open up for you first. Feel him slowly open up for you, then close back around you, then relax, allowing you in deeper. Tight and warm. Constricting yet welcoming. He wants you inside him so badly, Steven. But it hurts. And it’s a completely new type of pain for him. He’s conflicted with himself. The most part of him wants you to stop. He’s wondering whether or not he’s been delusional all this time, he’s thinking this just isn’t for him. Wondering how other men can crave this. Feeling new bursts of pain the further you go. That’s when you pull out Steve…not all the way, not fast, just glide back till it’s only the tip left inside. And he’s offered a moment’s relief that he suddenly feels as though he doesn’t need. He feels he could have taken more. He wants more Steve. He’s practically whimpering for more. Give him more, Steven.”

 

“Holy fuck,” Steve exclaims, the only coherent thing he can think of as he tries to get about his wits.

 

“That’s it Steve” he encourages, voice getting ragged. “Deeper each time. Faster each time. Harder each time. Own him Steve.”

 

“I can’t be- believe I’m – I don’t even know your name.”

 

“Thor, pet,” he offers, “my name is Thor. Say it.”

 

“Thor”, Steve orgasms as the name forces its way passed his lips. And never before has it felt so intense and real, so tight and hot leaving him in an unfathomable wreck that still wants more all while finding the sort of satisfaction that every inch of him has ever desired. And never even knew he wanted.  

 

“There’s a good boy,” Steve hears through a serious of dizzying buzzing. “You’re alright. Stay inside him. Let him feel you soften right there.”

 

“Thor…” Steve isn’t quite sure what he wants to say.

 

“Check if he’s alright, Steve.”

 

Steve closes his eyes for a second and then in his scattered mind, Thor asks Steve if he is alright in that low sexy rumble. Steve hadn’t been picturing Bucky at all. Not even once. He’d been picturing Thor doing it to him.

 

“Are you alright, Steve?” Thor asks. And it’s in his ear this time not in his head. It’s real and reassuring and terrifying.

 

Steve hastily hangs up the phone.

 

*****

 

The week that follows is very busy, that’s why there’s still only one condom missing from the box Steve so bravely purchased.

 

It’s so busy that Steve forgets to claim his PSP and Bucky forgets his former plans to ‘accidently’ delete all of Steve’s Michael Bolton playlists.

 

When Steve isn’t at a chess tournament, Bucky is at a football game. When Bucky isn’t attending an a mixed martial arts tournament, Steve has a big piano recital.

 

It goes on and on like this until Steve’s nerves and patience run thin and he finds himself climbing through Bucky’s window on a Saturday afternoon after making certain that Bucky’s family had finally left for their relatives wedding. And when the door swings open and Bucky walks in, all of Steve’s suspicions are answered.

 

 No, Bucky had not had any intentions of going to the wedding. Bucky hated weddings.

 

No, Bucky hadn’t been as busy as he’d claimed he was all week. In all their thirteen years, his best friend has never been too busy for him.

 

And yes, Steve is certain that Bucky has been avoiding him just as much as he has been avoiding Bucky, but for two very different reasons.

 

Steve isn’t leaving until he knows exactly what Bucky’s reason is.

 

“I slept with Clint.” Bucky blurts out as his eyes go wide the second he sees his uninvited friend sitting on his bed. Steve hasn’t even opened his mouth yet.

 

“Clint?” Steve finally says slowly, lowly. “Clint Barton, Clint? The guy you met online, Clint?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky scratches the back of his head. “Turns out he’s real, not some serial killer. And he’s great, and handsome and wonderful. And, Steve, I wanted to tell you I was in love with him but you kept making all those stranger danger jokes. I wanted to tell you that the reason I agreed to your ridiculous idea of not going to college a virgin was really because I wanted nothing more than to be with him, and I was so afraid of fucking up. But he visited last week and it _just_ happened and it was incredible.”

 

When Steve simply stares at Bucky, Bucky’s goofy smile falls away.

 

“Look,” Bucky crosses the room to kneel down in front of his friend, “I know we promised that we will be each other’s first, but I don’t think it’s what we ever really wanted. If that were the case, it would have happened. You’re my best friend, we’re practically brothers and we’ve been through everything together. I want to share so many more firsts with you, Steve, just not this one. You mean too much to me to lose what we have due to regrets. And I regret keeping this from you, but I don’t regret how it happened. How my first time happened. And I don’t want you to regret yours either. Fuck losing your virginity before college, there is no expiry date. As a friend I suggest you wait until you find your _Clint_. I’m sorry Steve.”

 

“I’m happy for you,” Steve lies against his friend’s shoulder when Bucky leans up for a hug.

 

“No you’re not,” Bucky calls out easily.

 

“No I’m not,” Steve affirms and the two share a light laugh. “But I will be.”

 

*****

 

“I want you to have sex with me.”

 

“Pleasantries have certainly changed around here since I was a child,” Thor smiles that frustratingly handsome smile. “Or perhaps my mother just taught me wrong.”

 

“Hi, have sex with me,” Steve rolls his eyes and Thor bursts out laughing. It’s loud and gruff and almost wipes Steve’s frown away. But Steve is distressingly desperate and quite annoyed, more so when the bell sounds and a painfully thin and tall bearded man walks in. Steve steps aside to let the man be served; tapping his foot impatiently when Thor greets him by name and they proceed to talk about ‘last night’s game’.

 

“I take it there’s trouble in paradise,” Thor fakes concern when the two of them are alone once again.

 

“Look,” Steve leans on the counter, “The truth is, Bucky and-”

 

“Who’s Bucky?”

 

“ _Skywalkery_ and I –” Steve rolls his eyes again and ignores Thor’ chuckle, “-are not really ‘partners’. The honest truth is we’re just best friends, best friends who made a deal that we wouldn’t go to college still virgins. And that we’d lose it together.”

 

“And can _I_ tell _you_ an ‘honest truth’?” Thor also leans on the counter bringing the two of them far too close together and Steve has to force himself not to move away. Because Thor’s broad frame makes Steve feel microscopic and he smells so good that Steve is actually contemplating giving up breathing indefinitely. “I already knew that.”

 

“What?” is all that Steve manages.

 

“Well, not about the imprudent agreement,” Thor shrugs, “I knew you two were not an item. You don’t think I’d have honestly trapped you into that utterly delicious, naughty bout of phone shagdom if I thought you were attached. Despite what society thinks of bad lads such as myself, I’m not one to come between anything even remotely close to a romantic relationship.”

 

“How could you tell?” Steve asks, genuinely curious.

 

“I’m incredibly good at reading people,” Thor praises himself with such ease that it’s entirely forgivable.

 

“And what do you come up with when you read me?” Steve makes the mistake of looking at Thor’ lips when he says this. The way they curve up on one end makes Steve know that Thor doesn’t mind the slip at all.

 

“I know the only reason you’re propositioning me is because your ‘partner’ probably lost his with someone else and you hate the fact that you’re now the ‘last man remaining’,” Thor makes air quotes again and Steve is sure that he’d have punched him by now if Thor wasn’t so pretty….and large. Thor is very large. “Tell me Steven, why is it so important for you to lose your virginity so soon. How will that make you a better person?”

 

“No, don’t,” Steve scrunches his face and straightens up. At full height, Thor is forced to look up at him past thick lashes and Steve immediately regrets his move, “don’t try to give me some after school special. I just- I have my own reasons.”

 

“You hate finishing last.”

 

“Don’t act like you know me.”

 

“You’re entirely too competitive.”

 

“You’re just repeating yourself now.”

 

“Then what is it, Steve?”

 

“It’s because-” Steve feels his chest tighten, hating admitting it to himself let alone another person. “I’m scared okay. I’ve been closeted for so long and I want out. I want to be free in college and what happens if I suck at it. What happens when I meet him, a guy I …fall in love with and everything is perfect until we end up in the bedroom. And I have no idea what I’m doing. And I mess everything up.”  

 

“And you think I’m the solution to your virginity predicament because even if you are terrible, their absolutely no feelings involved.”

 

“I know it sounds bad but-”

 

“And you know I will handle every inch of your body with the utmost, uncontrolled passion,” Thor reaches one strong arm up, fingers gripping the front of Steve’s shirt at the chest. The tug is brief and teasing but Steve nearly loses his footing either way, stomach pressed firmly against the counter. “And dear Lord, would I enjoy every second of it.”

 

“So,” Steve tries to look for words, ears hot and ringing. Brain unable to think about much else than the fact that Thor wants to sleep with him possibly even more than he wants Thor to. “So, does that mean you’re…we’re gonna do it?”

 

“Of course not,” Thor scoffs.

 

“And just why the hell not?”

 

“Because, Steven,” Thor frowns and it’s the first time Steve has seen the man look so serious, “I don’t sleep with minors.”

 

“For God’s sake,” Steve throws his hands in the air, “I’m not a child.”

 

Thor purses his lips as he straightens, crossing his arms over his chest. A stance he seems to favor and wears far too well.

 

“Two weeks,” Steve exhales. “What difference does two weeks make?”

 

“You’re eighteen then?” Thor’s voice is low and questioning.

 

“Yeah, but I’ll still be exactly the same as I am now. It’s a few days away, Thor. It’s not even a solid two weeks, its thirteen days.”

 

“Well then that leaves just thirteen days for us to get to know each other,” Thor nods, ghost of a smile returning, “for you to get to know me.”

 

“Seriously, after that we really will…?”

 

“I promise, Steven,” Thor affirms, “after I’m done with you and you find yourself face to face with the man you truly love, you will have not a single doubt in your mind that you know _exactly_ what you’re doing.”

 

*****

 

On day number one, Steve spends two hours speaking to Thor over the phone. And even though the conversation begins with Steve conveying his anxiety, it mutates into something calm and ends in laughter.

 

On day three, Steve finds out four new things about Thor. Not only does Thor run his late father’s shop, but he also goes to culinary school in the mornings with the dream of opening his own little bistro. Thor absolutely hates cheese but ironically adores pizza. He has a kitten named Kitten, reason being because she is a kitten. And he loves all music but favors anything with a violin in it.

 

On day number five, they share their sixth kiss. It’s always a soft and polite peck, brief touch of their lips accompanied by a _hello_ or _see you later_ when Thor makes time to take Steve to or pick him up from school. Steve always hopes it will last longer, but Thor straightens and revs the engine, an uncharacteristically principled look fixed on his face.

 

On day seven, Steve hits a total of eight balls at the batting cages. It’s a small victory in comparison to how skilled Thor is with the bat but Steve chooses to take it triumphantly. Because he wouldn’t have hit a single one had Thor not joined him in the cage and enveloped his bulk around Steve. Incased Steve in a skillful, coaching embrace. Chest over back, chin over shoulder. Hands over hands and groin against butt. Even though Steve knows Thor had been doing all the swinging, Steve still took great pride every time Thor would whisper ‘you’re doing great’ or ‘just like that’ or ‘it’s all you, Steven’. Because Steve wasn’t so sure that Thor was talking about baseball half the time.

 

On the ninth day, Steve realizes that Thor possesses ten times more self-control than he does. Because, Thor lets the platonic goodnight kiss linger on for more than its usual second and it results in Steve straddling Thor’ lap. Desperate, rock hard, aching and grinding down for more. And Thor’ words are a mix between ‘no, we mustn’t do this’ and ‘oh God, yes’. But even though they are both panting into each other’s mouths, bodies at awkward yet satisfying positions in the confines of the vehicle and hands stealing touches under annoying clothing, Thor is the one who grabs Steve’s waist and tosses him back into the passenger seat. A little carelessly but necessarily, Steve admits, when the world comes back and he remembers that they are still in his parents’ driveway and the lights in the house are still on.

 

On day number eleven, Steve realizes that there are only twelve hours left until day thirteen.  

 

“Steve,” Bucky shouts, “Do I have to remind you it’s both of our parties. Are you gonna help or not?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve starts blowing up the deflated balloon that’s been hanging loosely between his fingers. A quick look around shows that it’s his third to Bucky’s twelfth. Pepper is draping up pretty things around the bowling alley and Stark is pretending not to look under her skirt as he holds the ladder still. Natasha is helping Sam with sound checks, sounding as though she’s having a little too much fun in front of turn tables for the first time. And though it’s cheesy having a party at the bowling alley at their age, Steve’s friends are all cheesy too. So it’s fun and sort of lovely and Steve finds himself smiling stupidly again. And though it has little to do with the party they’re supposed to have all set up in less than an hour, Steve doesn’t let on. Instead, Steve just smiles back at his best friend who has completely misread his own.

 

And Steve is so happy that Bucky is still nothing but that, his best friend. Not his first time.

 

Which is why as Steve lays beneath Thor, entirely clothed but ready to strip bare, to help Thor do the same. Bodies frantic and tangled, but ready to calm down long enough to be sensible about what they are about to do. As Steve lies there, excited, comfortable, safe and ready, something dawns on him that he can’t even begin to fathom how he was able to overlook.    

 

“Thor,” Steve breathes out, shivering when Thor hums against his neck, “Thor, it was my birthday nine days ago.”

 

“I know, love,” Thor nibbles Steve’s throat, licks the sensitive part behind his ear. “I was there, remember?”

 

“No, I mean-” Steve exhales because there’s no room for rational thinking when Thor is touching him like this. He takes Thor face in his hands, forcing Thor to look up into his eyes. Allowing Thor to kiss his palm once before settling back and behaving, even though his pupils are blown and lips are red and breathing is wild. “Our deal…we were supposed to do this ages ago.”

 

“I know what the deal was,” Thor shrugs.

 

“Why didn’t you-”

 

“Because your deal came before my promise to you,” Thor smiles, kissing the part of Steve’s forehead that has undoubtedly sprouted frown lines, “and do you remember what that promise was?”

 

Steve thinks for a while, smile only spreading across his face in a way that has Thor kissing him gently. Then Thor straightens and looks into Steve’s eyes as Steve nods.

 

“Do you have any doubts about what we’re about to do, Steven?”

 

Steve shakes his head.

 

“You know exactly what you want from me and what you’re ready to offer?”

 

Steve nods again, smile no less.

 

“And lastly, but most importantly,” Thor places the softest kiss on Steve’s lips, “are you face to face with the man you truly love?”

 

Steve welcomes that scary sort of thump that bangs against his chest, because it’s been happening so often of late and Steve has stopped trying to define it. It feels just like Thor, hard and beautiful, scary and real. Filled with possibilities and a dangerous sort of safety. It feels just like Thor because that’s exactly where Thor is.

 

“Yes,” Steve affirms, marveling at the way Thor’ eyes sparkle.

 

“Then I have kept my promise,” Thor says, self-satisfied. A touch of relief laced with reciprocating emotion.

 

And when Thor leans in once again, Steve knows he is ready. There’s nothing left to study, or contemplate. To examine or question.

 

Except for one question.

 

“Do you have the condoms?”

 

“I thought you had them,” Steve says.

 

“Right,” Thor pushes himself up without a second thought, “I’ll get the car keys.”   

 

“Or,” Steve pulls Thor back, “We could always wait. I mean, what’s the rush?”

 

Steve laughs at the look that crosses Thor’ face, struggles against the arms that come around him and doesn’t give up even as he’s been hauled out of the bedroom over Thor’ shoulder.

 

Steve knows he would have gladly waited his entire life for this.  


End file.
